CHAPTER IV
A GENTLEMAN'S PURSE
In a small, bare room Colonel Boyce sat himself down on a pallet bed andmade a wry face at his son. "My poor, dear boy," he said, and shifteduneasily, and looked round at the stained walls and shivered. "It's damp,I vow it's damp," he complained.
"Oh yes. It's damp after rain, and it's hot after sun, and it's icy afterfrost. It's a very sympathetic room," said Harry.
"They are barbarians, these Wavertons. I vow they give their horsesbetter lodging."
"Oh yes. I am not worth so much as a horse," said Harry.
"Lud, Harry, don't whine,"--his father was irritated. "Have some spirit.I hate to hear a lad meek."
"I thought you did," said Harry.
The Colonel laughed. "Oh, I am bit, am I? _Tant mieux_. But why the devildo you stay here?"
"Now why the devil do you want to know?" said Harry.
"No, that is not kind, boy."
"Oh, Oh, are we kind?"
"My dear Harry, I have not seen you for six years, and I have not comenow to quarrel."
"Then why have you come?" said the affectionate son.
"You are a gracious cub." Colonel Boyce would not be ruffled. "When I sawyou last, Harry--"
"You borrowed a shilling of me. I remember I was glad that I hadnot another."
"You can have it back with interest now. There is plenty in the purse,Harry, and half of all mine is yours."
"You have changed," Harry said. "Odds life, Harry, bear no grudges. Idare say I was hard in what you remember of me. Well, things were hardupon me and I lived hard. You shall find me mellow enough now."
"Hard? I don't know that you were hard. I thought you were as cold asice. I believe, sir, I am still frozen."
"Egad, Harry, you must have had a curst childhood."
"Oh, must we be sympathetic?" said Harry.
"You're right, boy. The past is past. 'Tis your future which is thematter. So again--why do you stay here?"
Harry laughed. "They give me bed and board, and a shilling or two bythe month."
"Bed?" His father shifted upon it. "A bag of stones, I think. And for theboard--bread of affliction and water of affliction by what I saw of theremains. Egad, Harry, they are savages, these Wavertons."
"I did not hear you say so to madame. And Geoffrey is not a bad fellowas far as he has understanding."
"A dolt, eh? He might take a woman's eye, though. These big dreamyfellows, the women hanker after them queerly. Take care, Harry." Helooked knowing. "Bed and board--bah, you can do better than that. Nowwhat do you think I have been doing?"
"Something profitable, to judge by your genial splendours. Have youturned highwayman?"
"You all talk about highwaymen in this house," said the Colonel with afrown and a keen glance.
"Damme, no."
"Why, are you really a colonel?"
"Faith, you may come see my commission,"--Colonel Boyce was notannoyed,--"and, egad, share my pay." He pulled out a fat purse and thrustsome guineas upon Harry. "Don't deny me now, boy," he said, with sometenderness.
"I never meant to," said Harry, and counted them. "But how long have youbeen a soldier? I never knew you were anything."
"I have been with his Grace of Marlborough in every campaign sinceBlenheim. Do you think it's a good service, Harry?" he smiled at hisown opulence.
"For a versatile man," said Harry, and looked at his father curiously.
"Why, I can take the field as well as another. Egad, when Vendome fellback from Oudenarde I was commanding a battalion. But it is not in thefield that my best work is done."
"Faith, I had guessed that," Harry said.
"You have a sharp tongue, Harry. It's a dangerous weakness. Be carefulto grow out of it. Then I think you may do well enough."
"In your profession, sir? To be sure, you flatter me."
"In my profession--" His father looked at him keenly. "I am not sure.Maybe you can do better, which will be well enough. Now, what can you do?You can use a sword, I suppose, though you wear none?"
Harry shrugged. "I know the rigmarole, the salutes; I could begin a duel,_par exemple_. It's the other man who would end it."
"Duels--bah, only dolts are troubled with them. You must learn to holdyour own in a flurry. You can ride, I suppose?"
"If the beast has a mane."
"Humph. You speak French?"
"As we speak it in England."
"Yes." His father nodded. "When a man is no fool, he finds his profit innot doing things too well. Well, Harry, are you Whig or Tory--Jacobite orHanoverian?"
"Whichever you like, sir."
"By the Lord, you take after me mightily. Now look 'e, thus it is. TheQueen grows old. She eats too well and drinks too well, and she has thegout. It's common among all who know her ways that she cannot last long.The poor soul will not be wise at dinner. But even if she should last, weare in an odd case. For Anne hath a conscience as well as a stomach, andit seems they grow together. As the old lady gets fatter, she feelsremorse. When she's tearful after dinner now she asks her women whatright she has to be queen and keep a good cellar while her poorhalf-brother Prince James lives in exile on _vin ordinaire_."
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "'Poor, dear lad,' says she, 'and tobe sure I am a sad, bad woman. But I think I'll die a queen.' Whatthen, sir?"
"I don't say you are wrong, Harry. She's more like to drown the lad intears than right him. And meanwhile our rightful king, James thePretender, is left to his _vin ordinaire_. Faith, it's a proper liquor,for rightful heirs which can't right themselves. And yet there is achance. The Queen has always been religious, and when a woman hathreligion she may play the devil with your reason any minute. But here iswhat's more likely. You know when an old fellow hath played the knavewith some wardship or some matter of trust, often he holds fast to it allhis life and then seeks to commend himself to the day of judgment bybequeathing his spoils to those from whom he stole them. Well, it'swhispered among them that know her that Madame Anne will do her possibleto make Prince James King when she is gone."
"A dead Queen is but a corpse," said Harry. "When she is gone 'twill notbe for her to say who shall reign."
"That's half a truth. You know the law is so that Prince George ofHanover should be the King. About him no man knows anything save that hehath a vile taste in women. I do suspect Marlborough is in the right--hehas a nose for men--when he saith there is nought to know. Well, wetried a Dutchman once for our King and liked him ill enough. Who is tosay that we shall like a German better? Now Prince James--he is half anEnglishman at least, though they say he has his father's weakness forpriests. I'll not hide from you, Harry, that I am in the confidence ofsome great men. It's laid upon me to go to France with an errand toPrince James."
"I suppose that is high treason, sir."
Colonel Boyce smiled queerly. "You see how I trust you, Harry. Bah, youare not frightened of words. Who is the worse for it, if I find outwhat's Monsieur's temper and how he would bear himself if he were King?"
"And what he would pay any kind gentlemen who chose to turnJacobites apropos."
"If you like." Colonel Boyce laughed. I promise you, Harry, there aregreat men in this. Now I need a trusty fellow to my right hand: a fellowwho can talk and say nothing: a fellow who is in no service but mine: andall the better if he hath some learning to play the secretary. So Ithought of you. And since it may carry you to something of note, I choseyou with right good will."
"Do you wonder that you surprise me?"
"I profess you're not generous, Harry. It's true enough, I have donelittle for you yet. But the truth is I could do nothing. As soon as Ihave it in my power, I come to you--"
"And offer me--a game at hazard."
"Why, Harry, you're not a coward?"
"Faith, I can't tell. Perhaps I will go with you. But I have noexpectation in it."
"I suppose you have some here," his father sneered. "What do they callyou? You seem to be something better than Master Geoffrey's v
alet and agood deal worse than my lady's footman."
"Why, I believe you have lost your temper." Harry laughed. "Oh, admirablesight! Pray let me enjoy it! The father rages at his son's ingratitude!"
But Colonel Boyce had quickly recovered his equanimity. "They used totell me that I was a cold fellow. But I vow you are a very fish. So youhave half a mind to stay here, have you? Well, I bear no malice."
"It is only half a mind," Harry said. "Are you in a hurry?"
"Oh, you may sleep on it. Damme, I suppose there is little to do here butsleep. What does Master Geoffrey want with you? He is old to keep a tameschoolmaster."
"I listen to his poetry."
"Oh Lud!" said Colonel Boyce, with sincere sympathy. "I suppose they arewealthy folk, your Wavertons. Do they keep much company?" Harry shrugged."Who is this Mrs. Weston?"
"I never saw her before." Harry paused, and then with a laughadded--"before yesterday."
"That's a fine woman, her mistress. Do you do anything in thatquarter, sirrah?"
"Why should you think so?"
"She was willing enough that you should try."
"She is meat for my betters," said Harry meekly.
"For Master Geoffrey?" The Colonel looked knowing. "Do you know, Harry, Ithink Master Geoffrey is a pigeon made to be plucked. Well. What was thepretty lady's talk about highwaymen?"
Harry looked at his father for some time. "The truth is, I don'tunderstand Benjamin," he said at last. "I wonder if you will. Faith, sir,here is a pretty piece of family life. The good son confides in hisfather alone of all the world."
"Go on, sir," Colonel Boyce chuckled. "I play fair."
So Harry told his tale of Benjamin and Benjamin's companion and theirdisaster. It was that appearance in the crisis of the fight of othergentlemen on horseback which most interested Colonel Boyce. "So they wentin pursuit of the fellow who had fled and they never came back again." Helooked quizzically at his son. "These be very honest gentlemen."
"Why, sir, I thought nothing of that. They were plainly travelling atspeed. I suppose they missed him, and had no time to waste in searching."
"Then why o' God's name did he not come back to help his fellow? He wasmounted, he was armed, and only you and your cudgel against him. Bah,Harry, do not be an innocent. Consider: these fellows went after him atspeed. He cannot have been far away. It is any odds that he had hisbolting horses in hand before he had gone two furlongs. Then--allow himsome sense--then he must have turned and come back for his friend. Andthen these other honest gentlemen swept down on him. Well. Why have youheard no more of them or him?"
"Faith, sir, you are right," Harry conceived for the first time someadmiration for his father. "I had missed that: and, egad, it is the chiefquestion of the puzzle. But--"
"Puzzle! Oh Lud, there's no puzzle. They were all one gang, thesefellows."
Harry laughed. "Then there was not much honour among the thieves. Theyabandoned their Benjamin to me with delight."
"Ah, bah, you do not suppose they were out for such small game as yourpretty miss. They would not work in a gang to stop a simple, commoncoach, be it never so rich. Come, Harry, use your wits. Did you hear ofany great folks on the road yesterday?"
Harry made an exclamation. "Odds life, sir, you would make a greatthief-catcher. You have hit it. There was your friend, the Duke ofMarl-borough, stuck in the mud below Barnet Hill." And he told that partof the story.
"Humph. So they came too late," his father said. "You see how it is. Thisgang was charged to stop his Grace, and was something slow about it. Thetwo first, your Benjamin and his friend, I suppose they should have heldthe Duke's fellows in play till the others came up. They missed him, orthey shirked it, and instead, tried to stay their stomachs with somecommon game. The rest of the gang would be well enough pleased that youshould baste Benjamin while they hurried on after the Duke. Did you markany of them, what like they were?"
"Not I. I was too busy with Benjamin."
"And your pretty miss, eh? A pity. But it's well enough for yourfirst affair."
"First? Why, am I to spend my life tumbling with gentlemen of the road?"
"And a profitable, pleasant life too, if you use your wits."
Harry opened his eyes. "Do you know it well, sir? Now, what I don'tunderstand is why a gang of highwaymen should appoint to set upon theDuke of Marlborough. It's dangerous, to be sure--"
"You will understand why, if you come to France," said Colonel Boyce,with a queer smile. "There be many would pay high for a sight of hisGrace's private papers," and he laughed to himself over some joke. "Nay,but you have done very well, Harry," he condescended. "I like thisbusiness of leaving Benjamin tied up on the road. 'Tis damned nonsense,to be sure, but it has an air, a distinction. Your pretty miss will likethat. And I judge you have not told the Wavertons you were the hero, norlet miss tell them. 'Tis your little secret for yourselves. A good touch,Harry. Odds life, I begin to be proud of you. I suppose you will soon gopay your respects--to Mrs. Weston." He laughed heartily.
Harry was not amused. "Do you know, I think I like you much less than youlike me," he said.
Colonel Boyce seemed very well content.